by Marlene Hill
“I think we can swing a bite at Cipriani’s,” Chuck said. “Wanna go tonight?”
“Anything works, friend. I’ve missed you. If we can get in, we can catch up and eat good grub at the same time. I promise to use the proper fork.”
“Maybe it’d be best for you two to go without me,” Giulia offered. “I’m sure you have tons to talk about.”
“Oh no you don’t. Without your class, they wouldn’t let us past the front door, reservations or not,” Tom said.
Giulia laughed for the first time in awhile. “You are a charmer.”
“Naw, just quick to observe the obvious.”
Giulia had to admit she could use a light touch, too.
* * *
They took a vaporetto to Torcello Island and strolled past the two grand churches near the restaurant until time for their reservations. Both were closed. The small area around the churches was well maintained and dedicated to what was left of the first settlement of Venice. Tom found a primitive stone seat under the shade of a tree and plopped onto it.
“That’s called Attila’s Chair,” Giulia said smiling, “because legend blames Attila the Hun for driving mainland people out here.”
“When did the first people come?” Tom asked.
“Exact dates are lost, but experts think those brave souls first ventured out here in the middle of the sixth century. Each time the huns swooped in from the North and East, people fled into the lagoon to hide. Finally some stayed and lived mostly on fish and sold their extra catch back on the mainland. They must have roamed all over the Lagoon because they also sold salt mined in the southernmost part, all the way to Chioggia. To answer your question, all I know is shown on the small plaque in the duomo that claims it was built in 639 A.D.
“Those first people must have been a lot like American pioneers trying to find a better life by moving into the wilderness,” Tom said.
“Tough people for sure,” Chuck added.
“Was history your major?” Tom asked her as they walked past an ancient palazzo that housed a small museum—also closed for the night.
“No,” she laughed softly. “I teach English but have been crazy about all things Venetian since I was a kid.” She looked up at Chuck who was staring at her with what seemed to be adoration or… was it disgust? Maybe thinking how that damned dream brought me here at any cost.
She turned back to Tom. “Too bad we can’t get in the duomo,” she said. “The mosaics are magnificent especially the one of the Teotoca Madonna.”
“Tayo what?” Tom asked.
“Teotoca,” and she spelled it out for him. “In ancient Greek it means God Bearer. She stands tall and elegant in the apse, which is entirely covered with golden mosaics. A lot of other interesting art in there too. She oversees it all. She holds her child triumphantly, but if you look closely, you can see one tear falling on her cheek—an amazing mosaic tear.”
“Wish I could see her, Giulia. Obviously, she made a huge impression on you,” he said.
She nodded. Chuck put his arm around her and pulled her close. “Anyone hungry?” he said. “We can go in now.”
* * *
Giulia was excited to see the inside, but wished it were a happier moment for her first time. She’d been to Torcello often, but never felt she could afford Cipriani’s. From the outside, the little inn was not nearly as imposing as The Gritti. Bright red geraniums in huge terra-cotta pots stood in front of the entrance and added color to the dull beige stucco of the plain building.
The maître d’ led them past the main dining room with walls of rich, burgundy-red bricks. Pale pink cloths draped to the floor covered round tables. Each table boasted scarlet napkins and a bouquet of scarlet roses. Giulia looked longingly toward those colors and the elegance. In a few moments, though, she was thrilled to see the majordomo pulling out a chair for her at a table decorated in the same rich hues. It, too, held a bouquet of crimson roses. Their table was nestled in a secluded alcove formed by small ficus trees.
Flutes of Prosecco were poured for each of them and menus lay beside their places. While Giulia excused herself to the restroom, the two men looked at each other. “What’s going on in that thick skull of yours?” Tom asked.
“Brain’s churning for sure.”
“She’s a gem, you know.”
“I do. It’s a lot to digest. Last night—” Chuck stopped. He’d almost blurted to Tom about the incredible head she’d given him saying she wasn’t an expert but would figure it out. Man did she ever. But he couldn’t do that to her.
Tom looked and waited.
“Making love with her has been beyond fantastic. From the first, she’s been right there with me. Then this morning, when you dropped that bomb, all at once I began wondering if it had all been technique? And how many others? Even you.”
“Whoa!” Tom leapt up from the table. “Thought on the taxi this morning you got it that nothing happened. If you can’t trust me, I’m outta here.”
Chuck was up and around the table in a split second, grabbing Tom by the shoulders, “Sorry, man. I’m an idiot.”
“I’ll shake on that,” Tom said. Both men sat down facing each other again, touched glasses and took a swallow, never breaking eye contact.
“Are you able to listen for a minute without jumping to conclusions?”
Chuck sighed and nodded his head.
“Here’s what I think. You’re mixing apples and oranges.”
“How so?”
“Step back—if you can—from this latest news. How do you feel about her? Not her past. With Teri, I learned too late that the here and now is what it’s about. Has to be. If you dwell on what happened before… ” Tom threw his arm back in an arc, and stared down at his hand for a long moment. His voice came out deep and gravelly. “That shit’ll drag you into the pits.” He looked straight into Chuck’s eyes. “You’ll never crawl out.”
“I’m crazy for her. Fell like a ton of bricks the first time we met. And, man, the way she responds to me, but then—”
“For God’s sake. Every time you think she’s responding to you, are you going to wonder if it’s the sweet apples you had before I upset the cart, or all bitter lemons?”
Chuck was silent. “Oranges.”
“What?” Tom asked, frowning.
“Bitter oranges.”
“Oh… yeah.”
Chuck looked more miserable than Tom had ever seen him, even during their worst scrapes together.
“You’re letting your dick rule. If she means anything to you—and the way you look at her says she does—watch out. If you keep this up, you’re gonna lose her.”
Chuck nodded, remembering Giulia admitting she wanted out if he didn’t trust her.
“She’s one fine lady. Great conversationalist. Quick mind. Great listener. That’s why I requested her when I went back to Eugene. I wasn’t looking for a lay either time. Too damned twisted and torn over Teri. I opened up about that with Giulia. She tuned in but didn’t offer a shitload of advice like many do.”
“Still, wish she’d told me.”
“Sure… I can imagine why she didn’t though.”
“Said she wanted to. Waiting for the right time. I’ve known something’s been bothering her. Said she was afraid of losing me.”
“Somewhere above your dick-brain, do you believe her?”
“Think so. Want to.”
“What about your own past? You want her to know everything you’ve done and been through?”
Chuck stared into his drink, his mind falling backward in time. Finally he took a sip of Prosecco and looked back at Tom with bleak shadows in his eyes.
* * *
Giulia sat in a stall wondering how she could possibly eat a bite. She was sure the men were talking about her—almost hoped so. But it was foolish, to hope Tom could convince Chuck to believe her. Trust. Faith. Strange how they worked or didn’t. She stood up, flushed and went to the sink hardly daring to look in the mirror. Her eyes were hollow, her
skin sallow. She pinched her cheeks. Took a deep breath and knew she had to leave it all to the universe. At least she’d fulfilled her dream. But that apartment could be a palazzo along the Grand Canal, and if Chuck didn’t believe her, it would feel like a hovel.
* * *
“Here she comes.” Tom said and began to tell a story of how they’d made fools of themselves letting off steam in a crappy dive after bad breaks during Desert Storm. As she arrived at the table, Tom summarized his story for her saying, “Pure junior high stuff.” They all laughed as she sat down.
“We better order, I’m hungry. Don’t look at the prices. Remember my expense account.”
The moment Giulia sat down, a waiter came to remove her untouched flute of Prosecco and place a fresh one before her, then topped up the men’s drinks. “My goodness. The service here’s amazing,” she said lifting her glass.
“Wait, wait,” Tom said. “A toast to all of us together in Venice.”
They touched each other’s glasses and drank. “And Tom,” Giulia said, holding out her glass again, “another to your next visit.”
“It might be sooner than you think. I’ll be settling in Brussels soon. It’ll make it a whole lot easier to drop down to La Serenissima. Ah yes. The most serene of all. Let’s toast the city.” They took another sip.
“What’s in Brussels?” Chuck asked.
“Belgian Institute for Space Aeronomy and Weather-Modeling Physics. I’m looking forward to it. Need a change work-wise and… for sure life-wise.”
“Sounds good. You’ve been wanting to do more atmospheric modeling for a long time, right?”
He nodded. “Maybe a bit of solar work, too. But right now, my stomach wants those antipasti heading our way.”
A young waiter staggered toward them with a huge platter of raw veggies, various sea critters fried and pickled, an array of salamis, cheese and olives. Another, brought hot puff pastries in various shapes and fillings.
“We won’t need to order anything else,” Giulia said reaching for one of the delicate breads. Maybe she could eat a bite or two.
The size of the platter was deceiving because each small item was nested into an artful arrangement of delicate greens. The men managed to devour every morsel with a little help from her.
For their primi, Chuck ordered gnocchetti di patate con pomodorini, little gnocchi made with potato flour and tomato sauce. Giulia ordered ravioli formaggio di capra con melanzane e timo, ravioli stuffed with goat cheese, eggplant and thyme, and Tom ordered the most exotic item, strettine al ragù di seppie e fiori di zucca al profumo di limone, linguine made with stinging nettles and a sauce of cuttlefish and squash flowers flavored with essence of lemon.
They tucked in and shared bites. Not quite what proper Italians would do when eating out, Giulia thought. The night was warm and since Tom ordered both red and white wines, they soon relaxed and enjoyed the evening as if no tensions existed around their table.
For the main course, Tom ordered filetto di branzino con finocchi e olive taggiasche e pomodoro candito, filet of sea bass with fennel and olive tapenade and candied tomatoes. Chuck ordered filetto di angus argentino, filet of Argentine beef, and Giulia passed, happy to wait for a simple green salad. Of course, both men offered her tastes of their entrées. No one wanted dessert but all enjoyed espressos accompanied by minuscule biscotti and chocolates. Truly an expense-account repast.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Chuck and Giulia left Tom, promising to have breakfast with him the next morning. Chuck invited her to his place; she invited him to hers. He hesitated. He liked his better, then felt selfish and agreed. “I even have an extra toothbrush,” she said.
He laughed and pulled her into his arms. They caught a vaporetto to Rezzonico. “We haven’t talked about our apartments have we?” he said.
“We’ve had other things on our minds,” she said so softly he barely heard.
“Here’s what we’ll do,” he said. “We’ll shelve everything for tonight. Maybe get some rest. Okay?”
Her apartment was still bare and didn’t feel much like home, he thought. What did home mean anyway? A place where you knew exactly where your favorite paring knife resided? Where your books were lined up on the shelves not by size but by favorites? Maybe home was having Giulia in his arms. He’d never once thought about this in his first marriage.
She suggested he go ahead and shower first. When she slipped into bed beside him, he was naked. She wanted to feel his skin against hers and slid out of her sleep Tee to snuggle close to him. They held each other, but neither one wanted to start anything. He loved every second of their lovemaking, but this was heavenly, too. He always slept better with her in his arms. The nightmares seldom came when the girl-weight of her arm or leg lay across his body.
By morning, though, Chuck took a chance and curled around her moving his hand to hold a lush breast. He couldn’t keep from humming low in his throat. She turned toward him letting her hands skim his chest and on to his aroused cock. His big hands encompassed her rib cage, moved over her belly until one hand lay on her mound. She trembled and when he discovered she was ready, they made slow, silent love. Nothing special. Nothing unusual. And for him, it was one of the best sexual experiences he’d ever had. Seems like those words slip into my head a lot lately.
* * *
After their breakfast on the hotel balcony outside Tom’s lavish suite, he gave them a tour. Every inch was over decorated, but when he opened the door to the bathroom, he reared back and laughed. “Whooee, take a look at this,” and Tom pointed to the gilded mirrors, golden faucets and exquisite marble sinks and counter made of a rich, bronze-streaked marble. “Tour’s over. Let’s get out of this stifling excess.”
They walked and talked all through the rest of the day, grabbing pizza at Serenissima, their favorite pizza shop with its multi-colored carnival lights that glowed night and day, every day. More talking and walking and finally back to Tom’s balcony. Soon, Giulia excused herself to prepare for Monday morning classes. Chuck walked to the door with her to get a whispered assurance that he could drop by after an early nightcap with Tom.
But Tom followed to say goodbye.
“Come back soon, Tom, expense account or not.”
He bent to kiss her on the cheek and give her a gentle hug. “I plan to. I’ll see you in spite of what this lug does with himself. In the meantime, take my card in case you need anything.” Then he punched Chuck in the belly. “Hey, man, you’re getting soft.”
With that Chuck put him in a headlock, and said, “Soft eh?”
She left, not needing to find out which one would cry uncle first.
* * *
The two good friends sat on the Gritti balcony of Tom’s room and sipped four-year-old Cognac. Tom lit a cigar but Chuck passed. He wasn’t crazy about them and didn’t want it on his breath for later with Giulia.
Tom wanted to know more about the Ogle mess that Chuck had alluded to as well as the Botteri business. Chuck summarized what had happened from the time she kneed Oliver in the balls and ran straight into Chuck’s arms. Also about the break-in of her apartment in Vicenza.
“She’s convinced Ogle did it,” Chuck said, “but I think Botteri’s thugs had been there, too.
“She’s been through a lot.”
Chuck nodded and sipped his brandy.
As usual, Tom didn’t let the subject go. “You don’t ever need to know what she did years before you. But as I said, for the record you have nothing to worry about. All you need to know is who she is now. Right, ol’ man?”
“She charmed men, whether for sex or not. How do I separate that from who she is with me… or seems to be.”
“Jeezus! You’ve had plenty of women. If you can’t tell whether a response is genuine or fake—in bed or out—then you’re… you’re a hopeless case.”
He poured a little more brandy into Chuck’s snifter. “This woman rings as true as an Indian temple bell. Look how she stepped up and admitted to her past
the minute I thought I recognized her. She’s the genuine article. When we first met, she was kinda on stage trying to cater to my wishes.”
“That was her job, to cater to your wishes.”
“Not sexual wishes. Christ, you cannot get off that horse can you? Your poor dick has taken a hit. I thought it was tougher than that.”
Tom kept talking while Chuck brooded over his brandy, but he listened. Chuck thought back ten years. He remembered waking once in the middle of the night while visiting his sister, trying to decide about Special Ops. Fame. Medals. Glory. That’s who he was back then. Is he still that man greedy for praise? Does he still need to prove to his dead father he’s not a failure? A man who needs a pure-as-snow woman? Does he want a woman who acts like his mom did? Afraid of him?
Chuck came out of his reverie and noticed that Tom was staring across the water looking forlorn himself. He might have a drop or two in his eyes. Was he still suffering over what he’d lost with Teri?
“What’s going on in your love life lately?” Chuck almost whispered.
“Not much. Go out some. Seldom repeat more than a time or two. It’s all over with Teri. Her problem with me wasn’t my commitment to Special Ops after all. It was my commitment to anything that didn’t focus on her. I’ve been grieving for something I never had.” He heaved a huge sigh. “We never were soul mates.”
They were quiet. “I think Giulia and I could be,” Chuck said almost under his breath.
“I have a hunch you’re right. That seldom comes along. If you feel lost without her—I’m not talking sex here—you need to grab on and hang tight.”
They watched the moon’s reflection on the water flowing beneath the balcony. “I could get used to this peacefulness,” Tom murmured.
“Better let you get some sleep,” Chuck said. “You have an early flight.”
“Yeah. Have to wrap up the project at the Smithsonian Center for Astrophysics in Boston. But when I’m in Brussels, we’re going to connect more often, man. The years are going by.”